


Imagine...

by JuliaBaggins



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Enjolras/Grantaire-scenarios I originally posted on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet in an elevator...

Imagine Grantaire getting home after a long day at work, and all he wants to do is have a nice beer and then fall into his bed. But here he is, in the elevator, and the thing is, he isn’t alone.

Shortly after him, another man had gotten into the elevator, a tipsy blond god who wouldn’t stop smiling and quickly, it’s too much. Grantaire just wants his quiet, and what is this person even thinking he’s doing? With his stupid golden curls and his stupid cheekbones and his stupid bright eyes and oh no, he isn’t humming now, is he? Yes, he is.

Grantaire is very annoyed (yes, he’s just annoyed, there’s nothing more to it, he’s very sure about that) and he snaps at him, “Oh my, will you just shut up?”. He receives a wide eyed look in return, and why can blondie do these puppy dog eyes? Damn, that isn’t fair. And then, oh, then, the blond says “But today’s my birthday”, and he smiles a cute little shy smile, and somehow, Grantaire can’t help being a little bit charmed by this man…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet in a coffee shop...

Imagine Enjolras going to his favourite coffee shop every day, in a rush because he has to go to work and he’s already late and he isn’t a morning person, not at all, and he just needs his caffeine. And sometimes, he caches a hint of colour in the edge of his vision, but he never pays attention to it. Until one day.

It’s a sunday so he was able to sleep in and now he’s supposed to meet Combeferre at the coffee shop around lunch time. His friend is not yet there when Enjolras arrives so he looks for a table and sits down, really looking around for the first time since he comes to this coffee shop. And his eyes widen more and more.

There are paintings at the wall - the Eiffel tower at night, a full moon shining above it, a lady with a bright yellow umbrella in an otherwise grey and empty street, a close up of a violin, a field of flowers in soft colours… Enjolras looks at all of the paintings, and oh, how he loves them. It is as if the artist is sharing their way of seeing the world, offering the viewer to see a glimpse of it through their eyes, and Enjolras is amazed. He finds extraordinairy beauty in every one of them, but he quickly has a favourite: it’s a drawing of the Seine covered by one of her old stone bridges, soft outlines hinting at the city of Paris in the background, everything illuminated by a soft spring sun.

“You seem quite interested in the paintings”, a voice suddenly says and pulls Enjolras out of his thoughts. He turns around in his chair to see a man looking down at him; unreadable grey eyes, wild dark curls.

“Yes, I love them!”, he answers enthusiasticly.

The stranger raises an eyebrow, shakes his head and fixes his gaze at his shoes.

“Nah, they’re not that good.”

“Excuse me? They are amazing!”

Enjolras does his best to not get angry; he wanted to have a nice calm sunday morning, and he discovered some beautiful drawings, that’s good, he should be happy, but really, who does this man think he is to critizise these pieces of art?

To his surprise, the stranger is smiling now.

“Thank you”, it’s barely a whisper and Enjolras gets even more confused. His missing understanding must be showing at his face because the stranger opens his mouth again.

“Well, they’re mine, you know. Like, I painted them.”

For a moment, Enjolras is speechless; he’s just looking at this person who created such beauty, and then they’re talking, and somehow, he realizes that he wouldn’t be too angry if Combeferre would be a few minutes late for their meeting…


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is in love and just has to realize this...

Imagine Enjolras sitting at home late at night and realizing that something is wrong. He’s just sitting there in an unusual moment of quiet, he’s not even doing anything and still, his heart is beating like he just delivered a speech to the biggest crowd he’s ever faced or like he’d just ran through half of Paris. There’s also this strange feeling around his stomach, one that wouldn’t go away for a few days now, and he begins to wonder. Because the feelings are not… unpleasant, no, quite the opposite actually, but they are also so… new. He hasn’t got another word for it though this one doesn’t really capture the whole of it; anyways, it certainly is something he has never experienced before.

He makes it through the next days, the feeling always there, questions, whispering ideas in the back of his mind, and he does his best to ignore all of it. It isn’t until their next meeting that he isn’t able to do so anymore. Because there, Grantaire says something, and if you asked Enjolras later for the exact words, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. But, the thing is, it was something nice. For once, Grantaire hadn’t disagreed with him, there hadn’t been one of their usual arguments, no, and when they locked eyes for a moment after Grantaire had closed his mouth, suddenly everything fits into place. Oh.

Enjolras is looking around, nervously - surely someone had noticed something? But no, it doesn’t seem so, everyone is busy with talking to the person next to them or waiting for Enjolras to continue speaking or quickly checking the time; no one seems to be aware of how Enjolras’ heart is willing to burst out of his chest at any moment. He manages to finish the meeting, wishes his friends goodbye (not noticing the looks he receives from Combeferre and Courfeyrac) and then, as soon as he is at home, he sits down. And for the first time in quite a lot of days, he allows himself to be completely honest with his feelings. So he has a crush on Grantaire. That’s a fact he can’t deny. He might have become aware of this just hours ago, but somehow, deep in his heart, he had known it for a long time, as he realizes. And he hasn’t got a clue what he should do now.

The next day, when it’s just too much with the storm of thoughts in his head and the beating of his heart and the weak feeling in his knees, he calls Combeferre. He is nervous, he has never been one to talk about his feelings, but somehow, he is sure that he needs to let some of it out, to talk about it, form his thoughts into words, and who could be better for something like this than one of your best friends whom you have known for most of your life now?

“I need to talk about something to you”, Enjolras starts as soon as Ferre has sat down in his living room.

“I’ll just skip the part where I say that I’m asking for a friend because this is never true and come right to the question I wanted to ask you… How does one know that they might have feelings of a, well, you know, of a romantic nature for someone else?”

There’s a smile on Combeferre’s lips and he starts listing symptoms; a fast beating heart, constantly thinking of that certain person, wanting to be near them, wanting to see them happy, being confused, never really knowing what to say to them, melting at the sight of their smile… The list goes on and on and with every point, Combeferre’s smile gets bigger. There while, Enjolras buries his head deeper and deeper into his hands with every word and sometimes winces slightly.

“So, what would you say, mon ami? Do some of these fit what you’re experiencing?”

“All of them”, Enjolras answers, and his voice is muffled because he’s still hiding his face in his hands. When he finally lifts them, Ferre is able to see the blush on the blond’s cheeks and he can’t help but chuckle.

“You know, when you called me here, I knew it would be something like this. I wish I had said it before.”

“How did you know?”

“Enjy, we’ve known each other for a bunch of years now. I would have needed one look at you to see that you were head over heels gone for someone, and as you’ve been like this for weeks now…”

He leaves his sentence unfinished and offers Enjolras a hug. The blond melts into his friend’s arms with a smile and sighs as Combeferre starts to rub circles at his back.

“You know, Enjolras, I don’t wanna speculate, but I think I know who this is about.”

Enjolras is already too far gone above his usual borders when it comes to talking about emotions so he just shrugs.

“Say it. Don’t hesitate.”

“Well, without using names… Is it possible that this certain someone is a dark haired cynic with quite a talent for the arts?”

Enjolras buries his face deeper into Combeferre’s shoulder.

“Was it really that obvious?”

“Every time you talked about him during the last few weeks.”

There’s silence for a moment, before Enjolras pulls away to be able to look into his friend’s eyes.

“What should I do now? I’ve got zero experience in this matter and I’m just so… overwhelmed.”

When he recognizes the desperate tone in his voice, Combeferre gently pats Enjolras’ golden curls and smiles at him.

“Please don’t expect me to be an expert on what to do in a situation like this. But there are some things you should think about. Do you think he likes you back?”

“I don’t know. I mean, he likes me, yes, we’ve become quite good friends lately, and sometimes it feels like he might even admire me in some way, however strange that is, but I don’t know if he feels… this.” He vaguely gestures around with his hands, hoping that Combeferre will understand. He does.

“Okay, I think that one day, you should tell him.”

“But what if he doesn’t like me back… like this? I don’t know if we could continue to be friends after I told him something like this, I don’t think he’d want to be if he doesn’t feel the same, and the thought of losing him…”, Enjolras is talking faster and faster until Combeferre puts a finger to his lips.

“Hey, shh, try to calm down a bit. I know this is hard, and I can’t promise you that he likes you back and you’ll get your happily ever after but just… Ask yourself if you can go on like this for much longer. Being in love with him without telling him, without knowing if he’s in love with you too.”

Enjolras flinches at the word ‘love’, but avoiding to think it doesn’t make it untrue. And no, he doesn’t think that he can go on like this forever. Combeferre seems to be reading his mind and smiles softly.

“See? This is why you should tell him.”

“Okay”, Enjolras whispers, and he tries to ignore how his heart is beating even faster than before this talk at the thought of confessing his feelings.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet at the beach...

Imagine Enjolras being in some city at the sea because of a protest, and now it’s the night before it and he can’t sleep. He’s just laying there, in this lonely and foreign hotel room, and he’s worried; worried that something might go wrong at the protest, worried if his speech is really good enough, worried about a lot of things. After staring at the ceiling for hours without being able to fall asleep or shut his thoughts down, Enjolras decides to take a walk at the beach. And he just starts walking, it doesn’t matter where he’s going, he just puts one foot in front of the other, hears the sand beneath his shoes, there’s wind in his hair, and it’s cold because he forgot to bring a proper jacket, but he doesn’t mind. He’s just walking and walking, his worries finally leaving him alone, and he feels at peace, being the only person around at the beach at this early hour.

Except that he isn’t. After he has been walking away from his hotel for quite some time he sees a person sitting in the sand dunes, Enjolras is hardly able to make out more than what seems to be a dark hoodie, and this someone has got a sketchbook in his hands; eyes fixed to the horizon. Enjolras turns around in this direction, and the sun rises. There’s a ball of fire rising from the deep blue sea and suddenly it seems to be on fire too, the whole water is burning, and the sky starts to turn a light pink around the horizon, and it’s one of the most beautiful things that Enjolras has ever seen.

Enjolras is so fascinated by the beauty of the sunrise, of a new day starting, that he’s unaware of how he gets illuminated by the light himself, how his hair seems to be made of melted gold, and he certainly doesn’t notice that the eyes of the lonely artist aren’t fixed on the sun anymore. That they haven’t been for quite some time…

And who knows, maybe Enjolras, who has gotten quite far away from his hotel at this point, later gets escorted back there by a local artist who insisted on him taking his dark green hoodie as soon as he saw him shivering in the breeze, and maybe they’ll smile at each other during the whole way, and maybe that’s the begin of a beautiful love story…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness...

Imagine Grantaire sitting at his kitchen table on a late sunday morning. There's sunlight floating through the high windows, illuminating the landscapes and different views of Paris he painted to the kitchen cabinets in bright colours. 

Grantaire's hands are wrapped around a steaming hot tea in a green mug with little red hearts on it. His eyes are fixed on his boyfriend who's currently trying to make pancakes (and maybe burning them). He's listening to Enjolras' soft humming and when the blond turns around to smile at Grantaire, he smiles back. He's home. His heart is happy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire helps Enjolras...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to write something featuring Enjolras' hair...

Imagine Enjolras hurting his arm during a protest and being unable to lift it for a few days. And his friends are all worried and want to help him, but Enjolras thinks they’re overreacting; it’s just a hurt arm after all, and it’s completely unnecessary that they insist on him having someone there to look after him 24/7. Like, what could possibly happen?

At the third day, Grantaire, who happens to be there at the time, caches Enjolras looking in the mirror with an expression on his face that isn’t too happy. So of course he asks what’s wrong, because it surely can’t be that his Apollo is unhappy with how he looks, can it?

Turns out Enjolras is not satisfied with how his hair looks as he likes his curls to be wild and fluffy and now he hadn’t been able to wash them in days. So, a little hesitant, he asks Grantaire if he could help him wash his hair and earns silence combined with a wide eyed look in return. Enjolras already starts apologizing for the question when Grantaire says that of course he would, only the smallest shaking audible in his voice.

And so it happens that Grantaire is oh so gently washing Enjolras’ curls, moving his fingers through wet gold. Suddenly, a sound escapes Enjolras’ lips and Grantaire freezes, unsure of what it meant. That is until he spots the smile on the blond’s lips, the flutter of his lashes when he continues to carefully massage his hair.

And who knows, maybe that wasn’t the last time that Grantaire got to touch Enjolras’ hair…


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A puppy...

Imagine Grantaire getting home one day to find Enjolras looking at him quite angry, nervously twisting his fingers. They were supposed to meet for dinner about half an hour ago and Grantaire wasn’t answering his phone and yes, Enjolras may have gotten worried.

So Grantaire looks at his boyfriend with an apologetic expression in his eyes and takes something out from under his dark wide coat. And… oh. That’s a puppy. A tiny little thing he found alone in the streets and somehow, Enjolras can’t be angry anymore. He’s already falling in love with their new little friend.

Imagine Enjolras writing his speeches while their dog is softly sleeping in his lap, so focused that he doesn’t notice Grantaire drawing them from where he is leaning against the door.

Imagine walks in the park, cuddling, all of their friends coming to love the new family member. Just… Enjolras and Grantaire with a dog.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet because of a burned cake...

Imagine Combeferre’s birthday is coming up and while Courfeyrac is organizing the party, Enjolras is in charge to bake a cake. Well, actually he insisted on being allowed to do so as he wants to prove to his friends that he is very well able to bake a simple cake – he gives speeches in front of thousands of people, this is nothing compared to it.

After some online research Enjolras has really succeeded in making a chocolate dough that tastes good and so he places his soon to be cake in the oven, quite proud of himself. The recipe said it would take half an hour to bake so he has some time to kill now, and as he’s not going to spend all of it in the kitchen he decides to turn the TV on. And oh, actually he wanted to relax a bit, he’s quite exhausted, but there’s a political talk show on, and no, the mayor didn’t just say… He did. Enjolras caches himself getting angry and quickly, he starts to take notes; already preparing his next speech. He has some good ideas how to turn these horrible so-called arguments down, and he’s so caught in it that he forgets about the cake in his oven.

The burned smell from the kitchen isn’t enough to get Enjolras‘ attention away from his arguments as he has closed the door, but the high shrinking sound of the fire alarm is. He flinches and his thoughts are so busy and he’s tired as he hasn’t gotten much sleep during the last days so the thought that his cake could be the reason for this nerve wrecking sound doesn’t appear in his mind. Right now, Enjolras has forgotten about the cake, he just hurries out of his flat, grabbing the notes he took during the talk show as well as a jacket on his way out.

Outside, a few other people who life in his building are already gathered, most of them standing around in small groups of families or friends to talk. There are sleepy, annoyed, worried faces, it has started to rain and additionally, it’s cold. Enjolras is really glad he has remembered to bring his jacket to wear above his hoodie.

Suddenly, a man caches Enjolras’ eyes – he’s standing on his own, away from the other people, and oh no, he isn’t even wearing a shirt! Slowly, Enjolras walks to his side, sees the goosebumps all over his chest, the shivering, and how he seems to be trying to protect something in his arms from the rain. He’s not able to make out what it is, it’s too dark, but at the moment this isn’t too important. Enjolras gets out of his jacket, tips a careful finger to the man’s shoulder and hands him the jacket without a word. At first, all he receives in return is a wide eyed look, but then there’s a shy smile, and wow, Enjolras has never seen anyone with a smile so beautiful, one he wanted to see again so bad.

To Enjolras’ surprise, the man isn’t putting the jacket on but carefully wraps it around the thing in his arms. And now, he’s able to see what it is: a nearly finished drawing of Mont-Saint-Michel in a soft morning light, detailed architecture in a delicate contrast to the nearly blurred surroundings, and Enjolras finds he can’t take his eyes away.

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

When he finally looks up from the drawing, he sees that the other man is smiling again, and if anything could rival the drawing’s beauty, it’s the sparkling in his deep green eyes that accompanies the smile.

And maybe Enjolras isn’t too upset or embarrassed when they later find out about the reason for the fire alarm, because the artist by his side has an intoxicating laugh, one that Enjolras can’t help but join in, and he would burn a whole lot of cakes more to hear it again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could be the start of a longer story, if anyone’s interested :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An autumn day that turns out really fluffy...

Imagine Enjolras walking the streets of Paris on a rainy afternoon somewhen in autumn. He had a hard day at work and the bad weather seems to fit his day just fine; every raindrop to his face like one of the harsh words he had to hear from clients today.

The dark clouds have been hiding the sun for days and all the leaves have fallen from the trees, leaving them as black skeletons. Paris is nothing but grey, grey, grey. Furthermore, everyone Enjolras passes in the street is wearing a grim expression; joyless faces hidden behind scarfes and under umbrellas. It’s as if not only the sun has vanished, but the warmth in the people too. Enjolras shivers, wishing he was already home.

And now imagine Enjolras opening the door to his appartement, seeing Grantaire in the kitchen and smiling. When R turns around and smiles softly back at him, so much love in his bright green eyes, Enjolras feels warm for the first time in what seems like forever. Grantaire walks over to wrap his boyfriend in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to Enjolras’ curls while the blond buries his face in Grantaire’s fluffy yellow sweater.

Later, they are curled up together on the couch, hidden by a red blanket, hot tea in their hands, and Enjolras feels so good, so warm, so much _at home_. And suddenly, as he is leaning his head against Grantaire’s chest, he remembers a quote he once read, one about your home having a heartbeat. And if that isn’t fitting…

**Author's Note:**

> Nice comments are always very welcome! :)


End file.
